Looking, Yet Not Seeing
by Isilarma
Summary: An unusual Potions lesson forces Neville to see that Slytherins are not the only ones with prejudices.


**Looking, Yet Not Seeing**

**Isilarma**

**Written for Round 4 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: A Trio era fic.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and am not affiliated with Bloomsbury or Scholastic Inc.**

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Neville held his breath as a very deliberate footstep fell behind him. Please let it pass on, please don't let it be him...

"Longbottom."

The familiar drawl set Neville's heart pounding. "Y-yes, sir?"

"What precisely do you call this?"

Neville wet his lips. "In-Invigorating Draught, sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "And you would be correct, Longbottom." Neville's mouth fell open, but Snape wasn't finished. "If you were a blind Squib who had never set foot in a Potions laboratory." Several Slytherins sniggered, and Neville felt his cheeks heat up as Snape continued to lambast his attempt. "Not only did you add the lacewings before the leeches, you stirred anticlockwise when it should have been clockwise. Really Longbottom, can you not tell your left from your right? Or is even that beyond your comprehension?"

Neville stared at the purple sludge sitting in his cauldron and tried to find words to defend himself, but it was no use. All the confidence he had gained in the past few months as part of the DA had deserted him, as it always did when he set foot in this classroom. Shame filled him as he sat there, silent.

"Sir, we can still fix it," said Hermione tentatively.

"Silence," Snape spat. "Do you think us unaware of your high opinion of your intelligence that you feel the need to continually remind us of it? For once in your life, hold your tongue."

Hermione looked down, biting her lip. Neville saw Harry and Ron glaring at Snape, their faces white with anger, but neither were foolish enough to try to protest. He felt a brief flicker of relief, the last thing Harry needed was more trouble, but the relief faded in an instant as Snape's gaze shot back to him.

"Since Longbottom appears to be scraping a pass in this class solely by virtue of Miss Granger's inability to mind her own business, why don't we see how he will manage when deprived of her wisdom."

Horror rose up, causing his stomach to lurch violently. "But sir-"

"Enough," Snape snarled. "Do you think this is a democracy? Pick up your cauldron; you will be working with Miss Davis."

Neville swallowed. The Slytherins. Already smirks were spreading over their faces. Neville glanced round desperately for help. If looks could kill, half the room would be murderers, but as it was, there was nothing anyone could do.

"I am waiting, Longbottom."

There was nothing for it. Neville bowed his head. "Yes, sir."

At least it wasn't Malfoy.

The nod Tracey Davis gave him was cool but polite, as she shuffled over to make room for him.

"Thanks," he whispered.

She turned back to her own cauldron with a shrug. "Just try not to blow anything up, all right?"

Neville felt his cheeks heat up. "I'll do my best."

"Good."

Neville shivered. He didn't want to know what would happen if he did mess up. But she hadn't said anything particularly harsh so far. He glanced around. Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott were talking in low tones on Tracey's other side, and Blaise Zabini was working in front of them with Millicent Bulstrode. They were, thankfully, at a fair distance from Malfoy and his cronies.

Neville shook himself; this was no time to be worrying about his neighbours. If he didn't want to be dissecting toads for the next week, he had better get on with this potion. Again.

To his surprise, the next ten minutes passed fairly peacefully. The Slytherins were too busy with their own work to give him any trouble, and he found the atmosphere actually helped his concentration. Snape left them alone, preferring to focus on the Gryffindors, and his absence went a long way towards helping Neville relax. It certainly didn't hurt that Malfoy seemed unwilling to try sabotaging his potion so close to the other Slytherins. In fact, everything was going fairly well, until Snape's voice rang out again.

"Your potion is pink, Potter. Tell me, is reading another skill you were too arrogant to consider learning?"

Neville barely heard Harry's reply over the pounding of his own heartbeat. Surely it would only be seconds before Snape turned on him too. He reached desperately for the next ingredient.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Neville froze, the knotgrass suspended over the potion. "I'm sorry?"

Tracey nodded to the board. "You need to turn the heat down first. Otherwise it'll fizz everywhere."

Neville blushed again as he re-read the instructions and saw that she was right. In his panic, he had completely missed that line. "Oh." He changed the heat before adding the plant, and breathed a sigh of relief when the potion turned green. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Her attention was already back on her own work. Neville followed her example, but he couldn't help sneaking glances sideways.

"Is something wrong?"

Neville started. "N-no."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Neville hesitated, but he couldn't help himself. "Why did you do that?" After all, most Slytherins were only too happy to see him make a fool of himself. Tracey rolled her eyes.

"I didn't particularly fancy spending my lunch trying to get potion off my notes."

That would be it. "Well, thanks anyway." He glanced across to where Malfoy was laughing at Harry with Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy wouldn't have said anything, he would probably have caused it in the first place. There was a soft snort from beside him, and he turned to see Tracey glaring at her housemate.

"Ignore him," said Daphne quietly.

"It's an embarrassment," Tracey hissed back.

"What did you expect?" She raised an eyebrow at Neville. "Close your mouth, Longbottom."

Neville's jaws shut with a snap. "Sorry." But he couldn't stop staring. That had sounded like...

Tracey sighed. "Out with it, Longbottom."

Neville quickly turned back to his potion. "No, it's nothing."

He could almost feel Daphne's amusement. "Very convincing."

"Gryffindors," Nott muttered from her other side. Neville stiffened, before realising that the tone had been completely matter of fact. The mocking edge he had been so accustomed to hearing from Malfoy simply wasn't there. Tracey glanced at him and sighed again.

"Typical."

Neville blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Tracey shook her head. "Never mind." She glanced at his potion. "If you don't add the salamander blood in the next minute that will be ruined."

Neville did as she said, but try as he might, he couldn't concentrate on it. The conversation he had just overheard, and the looks of disgust on their faces spun round and round in his head. Had they been serious? He didn't know. Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were so strong a presence that he had never paid much attention to the other Slytherins. He had always assumed that they were just the same.

Neville looked round again, trying to remember what his grandmother had told him. Nott's father had been a Death Eater like Malfoy's, but the two boys could not have been more different. Nott kept his head down, never drawing unnecessary attention to himself; Neville couldn't recall ever actually speaking to him before. Tracey and Daphne came from neutral families, and while they never tried to hold Malfoy back, they never joined in with his taunting either.

A frown crossed his face. Typical. What had she meant by that?

"Merlin's sake, Longbottom."

Neville looked up with a start. "What?"

Tracey grabbed the leaves he was holding and waved them in front of him. "This is mint. You're supposed to be adding daisy roots." She shook her head. "How can you be the best in the year in Herbology and still get them mixed up?"

"I wasn't paying attention," Neville mumbled. Mortification filled him; he hadn't made such a mistake since he was six, but his attention had been elsewhere.

"Clearly."

Daphne leaned forwards to study him. "Why do you have so much trouble with Potions anyway? All you have to do is follow the instructions."

Neville snorted. "Yeah, while Snape constantly looks over your shoulder, and you lot laugh at everything that goes wrong."

"Malfoy laughs," Daphne corrected. "Because he's a prat. The rest of us have got better things to do than watch you make mistakes."

Tracey nodded. "You see, some of us actually want to do well in life, rather than just rely on our family name."

Neville stared at them. "Really?"

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to sound so surprised."

Neville looked down. "I never realised."

Daphne rolled her eyes as she added another ingredient. "Of course not. You were too busy listening to Malfoy."

"It's hard not to," Neville shot back.

"Try sharing a common room with him," Tracey muttered.

Neville grimaced at the thought. "So you really don't like him?"

"Why are you so surprised?" asked Tracey. "You know what he's like."

"Well, yes, but I'm a Gryffindor. You're Slytherins."

Tracey's eyes narrowed. "So any Slytherin is automatically like Malfoy?"

Neville opened his mouth, then closed it again. His stomach began to twist uncomfortably. Tracey's face held a complete lack of surprise.

"Like I said. Typical."

The rest of the lesson passed in silence. Neville's potion soon resembled technicolour sludge, but not even Snape's scathing commentary was enough to make him care. He packed as fast as possible, and almost ran from the classroom. He had to think.

"Neville."

Neville paused so that Harry, Ron and Hermione could catch up. "Hello."

"Are you all right?" asked Hermione as soon as she reached him.

"Snape was bang out of order making you sit with the Slytherins, mate," Ron hissed.

Neville shook his head. "It wasn't too bad. They actually stopped me from blowing it up a couple of times."

Harry scowled. "Probably didn't want to risk ruining their own work."

"Davis stopped me from leaving it too long too," said Neville quietly. "Even though it wouldn't have affected her."

Harry didn't seem to hear him. "They're just as bad as Malfoy. None of them would do anything if it didn't benefit them."

Neville felt a dull flicker of irritation. "Have any of you ever spoken to Davis?" he asked slowly. "Or Greengrass for that matter?"

Ron just looked at him. "Why would we want to?"

Neville said nothing. He looked over, and saw Tracey and Daphne talking quietly, Nott a silent shadow beside them. His stomach twisted again and his footsteps slowed. Hermione glanced at him.

"Aren't you coming to dinner?"

Neville shook his head. "I'm not very hungry."

Harry frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He managed a small smile. "I'll see you later."

Harry's gaze lingered on him for a long moment before he nodded. "See you later then."

Neville wandered out into the grounds. He didn't have a particular destination in mind, he just needed some time to himself. Most students were at lunch, and the cold was enough to keep the rest inside. No one would disturb him.

It just didn't make sense. All his life, Neville had been told that Slytherin was the house where bad people went. Bellatrix Lestrange had been a Slytherin. You-Know-Who had been a Slytherin. Only Death Eaters went to Slytherin. One of Neville's worst fears as a child was that he would somehow be a Slytherin.

Then he had got to Hogwarts, and Snape had tormented him, and Malfoy had bullied him, and he had known that everyone had been right. Everyone in Slytherin was cold and cruel, as likely to hex you as look at you. Neville had been happy to stay well away from them.

Until today, when he had had no choice, and Nott hadn't insulted him, and Daphne hadn't mocked him, and Tracey had even helped him. It didn't make sense. Slytherins weren't supposed to help other people. But they had.

Neville tilted his head back to stare at the sky. Had he really assumed that they were all the same? He had to admit that he had. It had never occurred to him to think any differently. He had never even tried to talk to them.

Something cold settled in the pit of his stomach. Had he ever given them a chance?

Neville took a deep breath, and knew what he had to do.

Potions lessons were always stressful, but Neville had never approached one with his nerves in this state. It took all his Gryffindor courage to hold on to his idea and move past his usual seat. Hermione called after him, but he didn't stop. This had to be done. Silence fell as he came to a halt next to Tracey.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

He was treated to the rare sight of a Slytherin struck speechless. "What?"

"Can I sit here?"

Suspicion flashed in her eyes. "Why do you want to?"

Neville forced himself to hold her gaze. "It's not typical."

Tracey continued to stare at him. Daphne's eyes narrowed, and Nott folded his arms. Neville suddenly wondered what he would do if they refused. But after a long moment, Tracey nodded.

"All right."

"Thank you." He sat down next to her, ignoring the murmurs, and confused questions. Across the room, Malfoy looked like he could barely believe his eyes.

"You've caused quite a stir, Longbottom," said Daphne quietly.

Neville shrugged. "About time."

Tracey and Daphne looked at each other, then at him. Neville stared straight back.

There was still a healthy dose of wariness, but beneath that, there was something else. Something that gave him hope.

Maybe they would turn out to be like all the rest. But Neville was determined to finally give them a chance.

* * *

**This was written because we never see anything of the other Slytherins, and Harry always seem to just assume that they're all evil. I just don't see how everyone in Slytherin could be like Malfoy and, considering his behaviour, I can't see many of them being particularly fond of him either. So this was partly a chance to vent a bit. **

**Any feedback would be appreciated.**


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